Tears
by whirlwinds of watercolours
Summary: In the middle of war, tears were bound to be spilled.


**Title: Tears**

**Summary: In the middle of war, tears were bound to be spilled.**

**Author: Memento Vivere**

**Rating: T for angst.**

**Word Count: 1351**

**Written for: the Chinese Moon Festival Competition: Separation Slice; the School Subjects Competition: Defense Against the Dark Arts; and the Honeydukes Competition: Treacle Fudge.**

**Many thanks to SpookiPooki for betaing this!**

* * *

She missed him.

Although it had only been a few months since he left, she missed him.

She was perched on the windowsill of the Gryffindor Common Room for the past few hours after tossing and turning in her bed, watching the unchanging sky comprising of a few stars and a crescent moon and waiting for dawn to break. Moonlight filtered into the room, throwing everything into sharp relief. Everywhere was covered with the green and silver banners of Slytherin house with all types of nasty slogans and all those ridiculous new educational decrees hung in the Great Hall like awards of honour. The place where Ginny used to call her second home now seemed so foreign.

Hogwarts was now in a state of upheaval: Unforgivable Curses, which were now deemed 'forgivable' by the Ministry, were thrown everywhere: students were assured that they could not survive a day without at least one round of Cruciatus, with the exception of Slytherins, for trivial things like accidentally spilling ink on their parchment and making them 'dirty like their filthy blood'; points were deducted for minor things such as sneezing or coughing and 'disturbing the class'.

Frustration welled in Ginny as she thought of all these new 'rules' now that Hogwarts was under You-Know-Who's thumb. Snape was the new headmaster and with him were Death Eaters Amycus and Alecto Carrow. The Carrows taught Defence Against the Dark Arts, or simply known nowadays as 'Dar Arts'. Also, Muggle Studies, which were now compulsory for everybody. A shudder went through Ginny's body when she remembered their last lesson: Hannah Abbott had refused state ten reasons why Muggles were disgusting animals which resulted in her being tortured to the point of severity that she passed out in the class on the spot. Even now, Ginny could still hear the faint echoes of her screams as they bounced off the classroom walls.

Harry was the last hope for the wizarding world. Everyone was now depending on him to be the one to defeat and end You-Know-Who's reign.

But most of them did not care what happened afterwards. As long as Harry killed You-Know-Who, they were going to celebrate. But they did not even spare a thought for what would happen to Harry. Would he survive the emotional aftermath? Would he be killed immediately by a Death Eater after he killed You-Know-Who?

Ginny felt the tell-tale sign of those tears again. The thought of Harry leaving the world seemed so impossible, yet there it hung, like a dark ominous cloud over her head. She closed her eyes, trying in vain to hold them back, but nonetheless they still fell, leaving behind the glistening tracks on her face.

* * *

Still stung by the revelation of Dumbledore's past, Harry sat in front of the tent, Hermione's wand clutched tightly in hand as he stared blankly at a thicket of trees up ahead. His entire body felt numb with shock, wondering if this was all a sick, twisted dream, an illusion his mind had conjured – because there was no way, _no way_, that Dumbledore had been friends with Gellert Grindelwald, much less helped the Dark wizard rise to power.

It was a ludicrous idea. Dumbledore, Albus Dumbledore, the embodiment of goodness and wisdom, the Dumbledore who had stopped Grindelwald, the one who stood up against the harsh bigotry of the wizarding world for the rights of Muggles and Muggle-borns, the one who fought You-Know-Who, in cahoots with Gellert Grindelwald? If anyone had told this piece of information to him a month ago, he would have suggested that they check in at St Mungo's.

But he could not deny it after reading Skeeter's book. Skeeter had a way of twisting the words to make everything more exaggerated, or spin a yarn, but he knew that the bare essence of the cock-and-bull story was the truth. Skeeter would not be crazy enough to fabricate such a big lie.

Anger flared in him as he remembered how Dumbledore preached against the Dark Arts when he himself was involved in it, how he always made Harry risk his life over and over again. The Horcrux Cave – he shuddered when he remembered the Inferi, their strange faces devoid of emotion as they reached out to drag him to his death – and now the Horcrux Hunt. What else did Dumbledore had in store for Harry? When was this seemingly endless game of manipulation ever going to stop?

Despair washed over him like a tidal wave, suffocating him under its thick choking blanket. How he wished he never set eyes on Skeeter's book. Life would be so much easier without knowing every backstabber.

He wished he was never tasked with finding the Horcruxes. How he wished You-Know-Who had never heard the prophecy, had never marked him as an equal all those years ago. He could have grown up with his parents. He could have been attending Hogwarts with Ginny and all his other friends. He could have been a normal boy, instead of growing up with his Muggle relatives and given the impossible task of killing Lord Voldemort.

It was entirely selfish, but for once, Harry wished it was Neville Longbottom who was the Boy Who Lived, instead of him.

He glanced down at his chest, where Slytherin's locket hung like an innocent trinket, but Harry knew better. It must be the locket's doing. It had to be. It must be playing with his weaknesses, manipulating him.

Closing his eyes, he tried to calm himself down. Cool winter air stung his face and he felt a shiver run down his spine as a chilly breeze skittered past. The night was quiet; silent. Not even a rustle of leaves was to be heard. An eerie and foreboding feeling settled in his stomach while the back of his neck prickled with uneasiness.

His eyes snapped open and he stood up from his seating position, glancing around wildly and looking for any signs of movements. He gripped the wand, ready to send out spells at the first sign of trouble. His eyes darted around the empty clearing, his sharp ears pricked to detect even the smallest noise. After a tense minute or so, Harry was convinced that he must have heard an animal scuttle by. He sat back down, berating himself for being foolish.

All the same, he could not help but feel that uneasy feeling swirling in his stomach. He sighed to himself – now he was letting paranoia cloud his judgment. Once again he wished Ginny was here to comfort him, to make everything all better.

Those happy memories of him and Ginny together rushed back into his mind. He had been trying so hard to block those painful recollections, but now he did not care. He wanted to relieve all those things about Ginny again: the soft texture of her red hair, that fragrant scent which sent his head spinning, the sharp contours of her back…

But he knew he could never forgive himself if any harm befell her on this trip. He closed his eyes again, drawing in a deep breath. Ginny was not his, at any rate. He had left her before going on this trip, because he knew there was a high chance he would not survive this upcoming confrontation against You-Know-Who.

He felt those traitorous tears in his eyes again when the thought of her marrying that tall, faceless stranger resurfaced in his mind. He hastily wiped them away with a shaky hand. He could not afford to mourn over his decisions right now. He had a goal: to destroy all the Horcruxes of Lord Voldemort and he had to brace himself for the obstacles ahead.

With steely determination, he glanced up at the sky, seeking for a source of help to destroy those Horcruxes. Besides a few stars flecked across the deep blue sky, the crescent moon resting its tired frame in the middle of that beautiful painting, the sky was clear, almost like an omen.

He felt his resolve build up. He had to do this.

He had to be the one to kill Voldemort.


End file.
